


Lipstick on the glass

by laireshi



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Clothed Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, PWP, Selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: “Come here, darling,” Tony murmurs, and his other self leans in, pupils already blown wide when Tony grabs him by chin to hold his face steady.They’re not even undressed yet, but this other Tony does react to commands ever so nicely. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t have to hide this terrible emptiness and darkness within him when next to Tony.Tony smiles and touches the tip of the lipstick to his other self’s upper lip.





	Lipstick on the glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faite/gifts).



> FAITE KNOWS WHAT SHE DID AND WHY SHE'S THE BESTWORST.
> 
> This is really just porn, because 616 Tony is ever so pretty wearing lipstick. 
> 
> Careful; there's one paragraph mentioning Ult Tony's cancer.

Having an interdimensional guest isn’t exactly a new experience for the Ultimates, though Tony can admit he’s glad it’s his turn this time to meet another Tony. He likes the man, probably the only other person he’d ever meet who could understand what it means to be so broken and keep going on.

And he’s broken, all right; apologising to a Steve he doesn’t even know for a sin he wouldn’t admit, switching between working without break on a way to get back to his world and digging into Tony’s own work like that’s all he has to do.

Staring at a bottle of whiskey Tony knows for a fact he cannot drink.

“Enough,” Tony says, grabbing him by his wrist. “You need to relax.”

“ _Relax_ ,” the other Tony repeats like he doesn’t know the word.

“And I know just the way,” Tony says, lacing his voice with invitation, not that he expects his other self will need a lot of—or any, really—convincing.

“That’s your best line?” he asks.

“I don’t need to seduce you, darling, you know exactly how much fun it will be.”

“True enough,” the other Tony shrugs one arm languidly. They’re each other’s mirror reflections. When he kisses Tony, they fit perfectly.

And _ohhhh_ , Tony knows how he wants it to go now. His other self needs nice things, and Tony wants nice _views_. Win-win, really.

“I have an idea for these pretty lips of yours,” he says, and laughs as his counterpart glances down his body. “Not that, but I _like_ how eager you are.”

He puts one hand on the back of his other self’s neck, squeezing gently, and is rewarded by the way he immediately goes pliant.

“Just listen to me,” he says, and the other Tony nods.

Huh. Tony thought there’d be an argument there. Just how lonely is he in his world to immediately submit like this . . . ?

Tony takes them to his bedroom, but instead of going to the bed, he leads his other self to his make-up table. He’s got everything there: powder and correctors to make himself look healthy for interviews; eyeliners and lipsticks for when he wants to play.

“What . . .”

“I said I had plans for your lips,” Tony says, picking the lipstick he’s got in mind. “Come here, darling,” he murmurs, and his other self leans in, pupils already blown wide when Tony grabs him by chin to hold his face steady.

They’re not even undressed yet, but this other Tony does react to commands ever so nicely. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t have to hide this terrible emptiness and darkness within him when next to Tony.

Tony touches the tip of the lipstick to his other self’s upper lip. The shape of his mouth is familiar, and Tony mirrors the movements he usually does when putting make-up on himself.

“I can’t believe you’ve never tried it,” he says in wonder, and then he has to move his hand back and shake his head. “No talking. I’m not done.”

They would get to smearing the lipstick, but just a bit _later_.

He applies the lipstick to the other man’s bottom lip next until the colour is even, and then tips his face up and eyes his handiwork critically. He’s foregone lip liner and he’s really got no intention of setting the lipstick; he doesn’t need or want it to last. There would be no fun in that.

He’s chosen one of his favourite shades: bright red, like the Iron Man suit. It works brilliantly with his counterpart’s clear blue eyes. This Tony is pale, clearly tired, but it’s not the sickly pallor of Tony’s own skin. It reminds Tony of what he used to look like, before he was diagnosed, and he commits the sight to memory.

_Better thoughts_.

“You look pretty, if I say so myself,” he says, smiling when the other Tony looks lost for just a moment. “Now . . .” He reaches for a piece of tissue and offers it to his counterpart. “Kiss it. To blot it out.”

The other Tony looks at the tissue briefly and then back at Tony. He blinks, his long lashes very distracting from this close up. “I don’t think so,” he says, and leans in to kiss Tony instead.

“Good answer,” Tony whispers moments before their lips touch.

He skilfully opens the other Tony’s shirt and pushes it down his shoulders, taking care to leave his tie on, while they kiss, soft and languid. Tony resists the urge to open his mouth, but he presses his lips harder against the other Tony’s for a moment. They separate, and Tony’s both pleased and regretful to see the lipstick isn’t perfectly applied anymore; the edges of it smeared.

“Mm. _Nice_.” The other Tony’s eyes are clearly focused on his lips, and Tony wonders what he looks like, red lipstick stolen from the kiss on his mouth.

“Told you.” Tony grins, pleased with himself. “Come on.”

He moves towards his bed, but his counterpart doesn’t follow, watching him with dark eyes instead. _That’s how it is?_ Tony gives him a challenging look and pulls him by his tie; the other Tony stumbles but goes, and _wow_ , but there’s something completely indescribable about making _yourself_ come undone like that.

“Wait,” the other Tony gasps out, “I—”

Tony raises an eyebrow, but his other self just goes to his knees right where they’re standing, like he prefers to kneel than to settle on a very expensive, very soft mattress.

Looking down at him, Tony almost can’t breathe. The tie starts to slide from his fingers; he catches it in the last moment, thinking it might be useful yet, and then the other Tony reaches for his fly and unzips it.

“Nothing underneath?” he comments.

“As if you’re complaining,” Tony says, and he’s pretty sure he planned to say something else, but then the other Tony touches him, and he’s already been half hard; all that escapes his mouth is a moan.

His other self strokes him until he’s completely hard, and clearly _all_ their tastes align, because he knows how to touch him just a bit _too_ well.

“Not that I’m rushing you, darling,” Tony says.

The other Tony looks up at him, and never breaking eye contact, leans in and takes Tony’s cock in, his bright red lips closing around Tony’s shaft.

“Fuck,” Tony lets out. “We should’ve done it in a room with mirrors. If you could see yourself . . .” And he _knows_ what he’s talking about, because he _is_ basically seeing himself and, _yes_.

The other Tony flicks his tongue just so and Tony loses the ability to talk. He tangles his hand in the other Tony’s hair, almost too short to really grab, and tries to breathe because he wants it to last, damn it. His counterpart lets Tony’s cock slide out of his mouth until only the head is still in, his lips around it glistening with saliva-covered lipstick. Tony slides his hand down from the other Tony’s hair to his lip, smearing the lipstick but carefully not touching himself, and then he tugs on the tie he’s still holding in his other hand.

The other Tony’s eyes go even darker as he swallows Tony again. His technique is slipping as his own arousal is clearly raising too, but it doesn’t matter the mere sight is just too good. He bobs his head and presses his tongue to Tony’s cock just the way he likes, his hand moving behind Tony to squeeze his ass.

Tony’s knees go weak. “Okay, up,” he says, and his other self either doesn’t hear or ignores him. “Come on, darling.” He pulls the tie up and _that_ finally gets him attention.

His counterpart lets his cock go, looking at him with no comprehension. “Mmm?”

Tony laughs, breathlessly. His other self is debauched and beautiful and so completely out of it, he wonders how long it’s been for him.

“Bed,” Tony orders, and then reconsiders. “Strip first.”

The other Tony obeys, pushing down his trousers and underwear and basically stumbling out of them. He seems slightly more lucid, and he looks at Tony questioningly. “You’re not undressing?”

Tony shakes his head. His trousers are open, hanging low on his lips, and that’s all he needs now. “I think you’ll enjoy it more this way,” he says with complete certainty, and his other self doesn’t even try to deny that. “And my chest isn’t quite as interesting.” That RT node is beautiful, but the other Tony ducks his head, clearly self-conscious, so Tony drops the topic.

He kisses him, fitting their bodies together. The other Tony’s hard already, and Tony presses his thigh between his legs, letting him rub against it before finally turning him around and pushing to the bed. They land together and Tony stretches to reach for the lube at his night stand.

His counterpart opens his legs without prompting, and his still red, wonderfully messed up now lips form a little o as Tony pushes one finger into him.

“ _More_ ,” he says, almost immediately, and Tony wonders if he’s that impatient and that pushy as well.

(He’s worse.)

He splays his hand on the other Tony’s chest, pushing him down into the mattress to keep him still. “I’ll decide that, darling.”

His counterpart pouts, and Tony would really like to kiss his pretty red lips again, but instead he just moves his finger, slowly dragging it out and in again. The other Tony’s eyes flutter closed.

Tony’s not actually that patient himself, so much as he’d like to torture his other self and make him wait, he adds a second finger. He files the thought for later, though; maybe the next time he can tie this other Tony up and keep him on edge the whole night.

Tony’s counterpart is breathing hard, his hands clutching the sheets at his sides. If he’s anything like Tony, and they established he _really really is_ , he’ll like it with a bit of a burn. Tony slides his fingers out and positions himself, his trousers pushed down only enough not to inhibit his movements, his shirt still buttoned up.

He pushes in, and his counterpart bites down on his lip, his hands finding Tony’s arms and digging in. Tony doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in, and then he leans in and kisses the other Tony in an uncoordinated clash of mouths. He’s all but vibrating with tension under him, and when he opens his eyes they’re almost completely black.

“Move,” he begs.

“Ask me nicely,” Tony tells him.

“Fuck—”

Tony bites him in the crook of his neck.

“ _Please_.”

Tony slides out, slow; pushes back into him, fast and rough. He repeats it a few times, carefully searching the other man’s face for any signs of actual discomfort, but there’s none; he just pulls his knees higher, giving Tony a better angle.

A particular sharp thrust, and the other Tony throws his head to the side, into the pillow; his lipstick smears all over it but he doesn’t seem to even notice, too out of it. Tony notices, though, and it makes him move faster, jerking in and out.

The other Tony moans, his hands around Tony’s biceps almost painful now. He’s close; squeezing around Tony’s cock. A few more thrusts, and he lets Tony’s arms go and reaches for his own cock, and Tony moves his weight to one side to slap his hands away.

“None of that, darling,” he says, and then he pushes the other Tony’s wrists over his head and keeps them down there with just a bit of force. He’s got no doubts his counterpart is physically stronger, but he doesn’t struggle seriously.

Tony keeps fucking him, his movements increasingly uncoordinated, but it doesn’t matter. They’re both on the edge.

The other Tony comes first, opening his mouth in a soundless scream, Tony follows him moments after, considerably louder.

He collapses on top of his counterpart for a few moments, not too worried about his weight, and they kiss, the lipstick only remaining on the outside of the other Tony’s mouth now, smeared all over his face and the sheets and, Tony suspects, his own face too.

“I’m keeping you,” he tells the other Tony, and he laughs breathlessly.

“If every day’s like this, I might just let you,” he says.


End file.
